Eternity
by mistermyster
Summary: My first fanfic. Just a brief portrayal of what I think The Master saw in the time vortex. Let me know if it should not be in crossover section or if I need some major help writing.


"That's when the Master saw eternity."

It's a cool night on Gallifrey, and no clouds like yesterday. The boy looks up as he walks past burning bowls of oily stuff and men wearing the ornamental garb of some ritual he was supposed to be familiar with. He thinks they all look silly. To him the backs look like wings of the Talmeria bird that came to sing the morning to him. Then he tips his head back and he can see the stars, brilliant points of light in the velvet sky, and he remembers his parents.

_It's his father giving the last talk he can before the academy, and his mother bearing her last witness. He kneels to be eye level with his son and speaks into his face like his father before him. The boy remembers his smell; like damp flowers. He sees his cold, blue, wet eyes struggle with themselves. Then the man says, "Tomorrow you leave us behind on your path, son. We can't go with you and you'll be gone for a very long time." The boy stares blankly. No questions come from his father tonight, and he will not breathe a word until he lies in bed later. "But even if we can't go with you, you can always take our love," he touches his heart, "and your memories," his head. "You'll be scared," he says with a waver, "more scared than you ever have been, but no matter how scared you get, you must not run. You must not give in to your fear. You have to face it and win because you can." He had been told this before, in so many words, but never directly._

_It had been more than two hundred years since Archer had seen the schism, and he didn't know how terrible his advice had been. Even so, his son had absorbed it all and placed it in his mind as a truth above truths: that there was no reason to run from anything._

He remembers that truth now, remembered it when he snuck out of his house with his best friend to drink with the Shobogans, remembered it still when he fought six of the drunken failures. He thought he would always remember. His faith in that truth above truths grew with each step across the sand path lined with men and torches. He straightened his back and turned his walk to a march. Comical for an eight year old, but not _to_ an eight year old. His father hadn't told him what he'd face tonight. The boy didn't care. The boy was powerful because he knew he was powerful, and he knew because his father told him so. Such is the way this eight year old thinks.

He was marching to the end of the path, where it veered sharply into an opening. There were no more men, only burning torches. _The men were probably only there anyway to keep cowards moving forward_, the boy thought. _I will move _myself_ forward._

"Young Koschei!" came a strong voice from around the corner, "Come forward and claim your apprenticehood!"

He did come forward, marching around the corner. There were three in red robes men standing in a V. All were grim faced, holding gold scepters. There was something behind them. He didn't see it, but he could feel it. His resolve faltered the slightest bit, and he immediately corrected himself. _Remember the truth_.

"Are you ready, young Koschei, to throw away what is behind you to claim the path ahead?" the strong voiced man asked.

"I am," the boy replied sternly.

Almost before the boy answered, the man nodded. "Then take your first step."

On cue, the men moved away, the one closest to him shifting to his left, and the two behind to his right. What they concealed with their presence was now visible to the eight year-old, and it felt as if the air around them gained weight. He took his first hesitant step toward the circular thing reflecting the black sky. He could feel it humming whatever it was, drawing him in. His eyes avoided it. His head almost followed when-

"Look!"

He did, and what he saw was not the sky. There was a ripple- a _spiral_. Endlessly cascading into nothingness. Drawing him in, drawing him in. Drawing him closer to the-

The nothing. Not even blackness, just nothing. No walls. No up or down. No time. And he is falling. Falling all ways. Falling, and screaming. He grasps for truth, but no truth can help him now because here truth doesn't exist. He falls forever. He screams forever. Then he's caught. Something is looking at him. In the todash darkness he sees something. _Is it her?_ He asks, _is it death, come to take me away?_ But it's a breathy, hungry male voice when the thing speaks.

"A boy?" The thing seemed to consider, and then, "A boy," it answered itself with some wonder. "Did you fall into one of the cracks, little boy, or did someone push you in?" The creature asked with amusement.

No words. Not yet anyway. What was this place? Was this a place? Was this a dream? He is afraid. This place seemed to be made of fear.

"That's right child, I am not your goddess. She's but a ferry to here."

The boy spoke. He didn't hear those prior words. "I was sent here." He was so afraid, but he would not run. He would never run.

The thing seemed to pause in the darkness, maybe sizing him up. The fear in the young Gallifreyan was drawing in towards its owner like smoke to a vent. He could feel it all around him. This was a place outside time. Or was it _inside _time? So far inside maybe that time held no purpose? He was numb. He couldn't feel time and he was panicking. And if this place was beyond time, then what could possibly live here?

The monster was slow putting the pieces together. "You must be-"

"Show yourself!" Wild emotions had closed in on the boy and he squirmed feebly in the grip of his captor. "Show me!"

"No. If I did, it would drive you mad, Time Lord." The voice seemed to salivate at the name of his race. "You're very lucky, really. Your people have poked so many holes in the tower, and still more, _delah_."

The boy could feel the thing's imaginary arm stretch back towards the entrance.

"Run home now, little boy."

This is what his father meant. This moment. Give up and all was lost. Everything in his past and his future would mean nothing if he didn't fight this fight. This was his test. This was why they sent him here.

"I will not!" but he could feel himself being pushed further. Drifting further away from his target. "NO!" They sent him here to win.

There were no arms for him to strike with, and no legs. He did the only thing he could do. He bit savagely, turning that fear and pain and surprise into mental teeth. He felt them sink deep into his opponent. There was a blur of colors of every shade and spectrum, but they were colors he _felt_ rather than saw. He heard the thing holding him yowl in astonishment. Then he was falling once more into darkness.

"THE TOWER MUST FALL!" he heard in the distance. Then that arm caught him, only this time it squeezed, speeding him again towards his entrance. He could still hear his father:_You must not run. Must not give in. _He would win this fight. He would win and return with honor and respect as his father taught him. He would win because he knew he could.

The arm made of nothingness wrapped around him tighter. "I WILL NOT GIVE IN!" the boy screamed before he bit a second time.

And with that second bite a thousand images would be imparted unto this unfortunate boy. Futures and pasts and presents and finally, the end of time itself. The end of all there was.

There was a spasmic jerk, but the creature did not let go. "I WILL NOT GIVE IN!"

"FINE!" the monster roared. And he could feel the arm fling him into nothing. He felt his memories falling out of him, behind him in a trail. His love was withering outside this place. His fear was still with the creature. He was falling deeper into the nothing that would swallow worlds. The todash darkness was drawing him in.

And in.

_Where will I rest?_

_This place has to have some end_

_doesn't it?_

And then he could hear the drums.

_Lateralus_

They were faint at first, then growing louder.

_Lateralus_

The spiral drums.

As if the sound was passing through him, vibrating into his being.

And he went mad. And he never forgot his fathers words, even through the madness.

To the three men outside, this scene never happened. The boy had walked to the Untempered Schism of the Time Vortex and showed no fear, only a slight hesitation at the beginning. The boy was still conscious, he hadn't blinked, he hadn't moved, and three minutes after the ritual started, the leader of the three realized he hadn't taken a breath.


End file.
